No Good Ending
by Jasmine2009
Summary: Hutch is coerced into doing something he doesn't want to do. I've added through Chapter 9 and made a correction thank you Trish . Thanks for all the comments and suggestions.
1. Chapter 1

Title: "No Good Ending"  
Author: Jasmine  
Date: December 5, 2009  
Inspired by It Takes a Thief, starring Robert Wagner

Summary: Hutch is coerced into stealing a file.

Chapter 1

"Hutchinson! Starsky! Get in here!" Dobey bellowed.

Hutch shrugged at his partner and then opened the door so Starsky could enter first into the adjoining office that belonged to their captain. They were surprised to see the small room crowded with men.

Starsky suggested, "Wouldn't we fit better in the chalk room, Capt'n?"

"If I wanted to meet in the chalk room, we'd be there…wouldn't we!" Dobey's usual ill tempered disposition came across a little more agitated than normal, causing Hutch to lift his shoulders in response to his partner's puzzled expression.

"Okay, but can we at least know who we're talking to?"

"They're with The Company," Dobey replied.

"The Company… as in C.I.A.?" Hutch asked.

Extending his hand, one of the men introduced himself as Agent Jim Jones. Tilting his head towards his colleagues, he added, "This is Agent Miller, and Agents Phillips and Green." Introductions were made and hands were shook, but it was obvious that the two detectives felt a little awkward in the presence of the agents. Jones immediately sensed the uneasiness and said, "Relax, Gentlemen. We're here on official business. We need your help working a case."

"No offense," Starsky began, "but we don't normally get requests to work with Federal Agents. Usually we can't even get you guys to return our phone calls."

"If we didn't need you, trust us when we tell you we wouldn't be here. It just so happens that necessity dictates our mission. We're out here from Virginia…"

Hutch only half listened to the man droning on about his office on the east coast. Jones, the one doing all the talking, was the oldest, almost grandfatherly in appearance, wearing an old tattered tweed jacket and baggy slacks with tennis shoes. The only piece of attire that was fashionable was his tie, and it was crisp in color and fat. Agent Phillips, who looked like he'd spent his entire year's salary on his custom made suit, was staring intently at Jones, like an anxious pet waiting for some sort of treat from its owner. Hutch felt a shiver crawl down his neck and when he looked over, he caught Agents Miller and Green studying him, or more accurately, scrutinizing him, neither bothering to hide the fact that they were glaring. The sudden eye contact unnerved him and at first he tried to ignore it, but eventually it became quite obvious what they were doing. Staring directly at them, he interrupted Jones and said, "This is all very interesting, Agent Jones, but what can _we_ possibly do for you?"

"I'm glad you asked, Detective Hutchinson, this is our situation: There's a file, a very important file that was stolen seven days ago. We believe it's making its way to the Far East where it will be sold to the highest bidder, either China or Russia. If the information in that file lands in the wrong hands, it will become a major international incident."

"What's in this file?" Starsky asked.

"That's not important," Agent Miller replied, his voice edgy and sharp.

Starsky stared at him a beat longer than normal, then slowly turned to address Hutch, "You get the idea that this is going to be a one sided proposition?"

Hutch nodded, "Uh huh."

Agent Jones added, "We're not at liberty to tell you everything. Believe me when I say that it's to your advantage if you don't know too much. In our line of work, the less you know, the better."

Hutch asked, "What is it that you want us to do?"

"We'd like you to steal this file back."

Starsky snorted, "For a moment there, I thought we were actually going to have to work with you guys."

Hutch snickered at his partner's abysmal display of respect.

"Starsky!" Dobey ordered, "Knock it off!"

"But Capt'n! We're not in the business of _committing_ crimes... we're in the business of _solving_ them."

"Not anymore," Miller toned.

Starsky glowered, but the inveterate Jones soothed things over, "Gentlemen, this is a sensitive issue, and we'd appreciate your understanding."

Hutch asked, "Understanding of what? So far, you want us to commit a crime, the very thing we took an oath to prevent."

Jones stared at the blonde, suddenly and inexplicably elevating the tension in the room. He walked back to the door and checked it, making sure it was closed all the way, then he turned to face the tall detective. Taking on a more commanding air, he said, "Let me be blunt. We have it on good authority that you, Detective Hutchinson, made a better than average thief in your younger days. We want to tap into that talent."

Starsky raised his brows, "Huh?"

Hutch took a second to register what was just said. He leaned deliberately forward and demanded in a soft voice, "What did you say?"

"I said we know about your teenage exploits. We pulled up your file, Hutchinson. In your younger days, you proved quite a challenge to the law enforcement in Duluth."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"I think you do. And I also think that you don't want me to prove it right here."

Realizing first hand that Jones wasn't bluffing, Hutch seethed, "Those files were sealed, and the crimes expunged!"

"Not to the CIA," Miller obviously enjoyed saying. "And judging by the expression on your captain's face and your partner's, I bet you have some explaining to do."

Hutch whispered, "You sonofabitch!"

Jones chastised his subordinate, "Shut up, Agent Miller!" He turned to face the blond detective again. "I'm sorry about this. But that stolen file is extremely important, some are even saying vital, to our national security. Our computer spit out two names," Jones continued, "who it considered to be the best candidates for this caper. Yours… and another man's: the other man died two months ago in a New York prison. That leaves you."

"Maybe you've got the wrong man!" Hutch countered.

"Maybe we don't."

"Maybe I won't do it."

"Maybe you don't have a choice."

Hutch and Jones locked eyes. The veteran spy had seen that look many times before, the look where your mind is searching for an escape that doesn't exist. This is the part of the job Jones hated, but when the top dog at the C.I.A. tells you to do something, you do it, no matter the tactics. After reading Hutchinson's personnel file, which wasn't just clean but immaculate, the only option available to him was blackmail, and coercion was something he was pretty damn good at. Jones leaned forward and said, "You _will_ work with us, Detective, or certain information _will_ get forwarded to the Bay City Police Department…, and you know as well as I know that if that happens, your days as a cop _will_ be numbered."

Hutch's heart pounded in his chest and the color slipped from his face. He looked at the people in the room, purposely avoiding his partner and boss. Suddenly feeling like he couldn't breathe, he turned towards the door but Agent Miller stepped sideways into his path.

Irritated again with his subordinate, Jones ordered, "Miller, let him go!"

The short and stocky agent threw an angry glance before stepping aside. Without another word, Hutch left.

Agent Jones apologized, "I'm sorry about this, Captain Dobey." He acknowledged Starsky with a tick of his head and continued, "I know that this has come as a shock to both of you, but you have to understand that if there was any other way, we'd use it, but right now, we're short on time and manpower. We have to use the one resource we have, and that resource is Ken Hutchinson."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The door shut behind the last agent and Starsky stared at Dobey. "I don't believe it!"

Dobey shoved a folder across his desk, "It's all there."

Inside the file was a police report with a photograph of Hutch as a teenager. He flipped through the pages, some of which were newly typed. Then he flipped to older papers, yellowed from years of neglect. The list of items Ken Hutchinson allegedly stole was long and impressive. No longer able to digest the information, he slowly closed the file and stared at his captain. "Do you believe this?"

Dobey leaned back heavily and threw his arms up, "I don't know what to believe. I was caught as much off guard as you were."

"Have you checked these fellas out? It wouldn't be the first time a renegade group launched their own operation."

"Who do you think you're talking to? Of course I'm checking them out. I have the wheels in motion but it'll take a day to get the kind of confirmation we need. By then, it may be too late."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Starsky pulled up in front of Venice Place behind the battered Ford. He sat an extra minute, grappling with his thoughts. There were few things he didn't know about his partner, so he couldn't imagine that any of this was true. But with Hutch, you never knew. The door to his friend's apartment was unlocked so he pushed it open and peered inside. He was sitting on the back of the couch, lightly strumming his guitar. "Hey," Starsky said.

Hutch turned his head but only briefly made eye contact. "Hey."

Starsky moved inside and closed the door behind him. He walked to the refrigerator and took out two beers, then made his way back towards the sofa. Opting for the coffee table instead, he sat down and looked up at his partner, allowing an extra minute to take in the situation. It was surreal; listening to the strumming of the guitar as the light in the room slowly dissipated in the late afternoon sun. He waited for the tune to finish, although he suspected Hutch was just playing his mood. Finally, when it stopped, he waited patiently as his partner just stared off into space.

Looking at his beer bottle, Starsky asked, "Is it true?"

Hutch closed his eyes. Here it came, the conversation he never wanted to have. No matter how he answered, there was no good ending. There was also no way to avoid the question. He simply nodded once.

"Care to talk about it?"

Hutch started strumming again, a little harder, not as smooth as earlier, which prompted Starsky to reach over and put his hand around the neck of the guitar, stifling the sound. Soothingly, Starsky pointed out, "You can't hide behind this guitar. Talk to me."

Hutch didn't know where to begin; it was as if his soul was being ambushed with old emotions, strong ones and difficult to control. It took him a full minute to sort through his feelings. Starsky just waited patiently, feeling his partner's pain. He slowly lifted the guitar away and coached, "Just start at the beginning, partner."

Hutch held onto his beer bottle, but was reluctant to take a drink; instead he looked at Starsky, his partner and best friend. More than anything, he didn't want Starsky to be disappointed in him. For a living, they both put guys like him away, for very long times, and he wouldn't be able to stand himself if he disappointed his best friend. But in a minute, David Starsky was going to hear what Ken Hutchinson was really like, which, in some circles, amounted to nothing more than a petty thief. He pushed those thoughts away and turned his head so he couldn't look into Starsky's eyes anymore. Slowly, he began, "There's a part of my life that I've kept well hidden, at least I tried to keep it hidden. It was a period of time when I was about as lost as a person could be. There didn't seem to be a world under me, or even solid ground under my feet. Every day when I would wake up, I would feel the quick sand around my neck, smothering me, suffocating me. According to people I was supposed to love the most, I couldn't do anything right. My grades weren't good enough, my running wasn't fast enough, my friends weren't nice enough… the list never ended. My father was always telling me what a screw up I was and asked why I couldn't be more like Harry's kid, and my mother just turned her head, believing if she didn't see me, I couldn't be a disappointment. I became invisible.

"Then one day, I was on a class field trip to the Sioux Indian Museum. I must have been around eleven or so, and I watched a guard take out his key and open a special vault. I couldn't see inside the vault, but for some reason, I had an incredible urge to find out what was in it. When everything else in my head was jumbled, getting into that sealed room was as clear as a piece of my mother's crystal. Before the night was over, I was standing inside that vault looking at the most magnificent Indian artifacts. I didn't take anything, but for the first time since I could remember, I felt powerful… I felt in control.

"Afterwards, as I lay in bed, I thought about the security in the museum and how it stunk. I broke in and it didn't require much more of an effort on my part than a lie to get out of my house. But something really stuck with me and that was the feeling that I did something that would completely and utterly infuriate my parents. And you know what the worse thing about that was? I liked it. I liked the feeling of standing in the vault, knowing that I could take anything I wanted."

Starsky listened to the story, somehow making the pieces fit together of what little he knew of Hutch's teenage years. He figured they weren't great, but he also thought how hard could it be when your family was filthy rich? There was embarrassment in those blue eyes like he'd not seen since the days of Ben Forest. But it still didn't explain the interest by the C.I.A. "I saw that list of items you allegedly stole. Breaking into an Indian museum is a far cry from what was on that list."

Hutch looked away again, looking for his guitar, but it was safely out of reach behind his partner. He cleared his head by taking a deep breath, and then he began again, "After the museum break-in, I started looking at everything differently. I'd go to friends' houses and size up the place. I broke into my first house when I was 12 after studying it for a month. I got so good at breaking into houses that I could practically do it after only one visit. But I never took anything! I would just stand in the living room, in complete darkness and wonder what my parents would do if they saw me. After a year of houses, I got bored, so I began to look for other places. Convenience stores, pizza joints, dime stores became routine favorites. I usually just ate the food, but I didn't take anything more than that. One night I ventured out and I must have been feeling cocky because I went for a jewelry store. I didn't know about laser alarms and while I was looking through the glass at all the fine pieces, the police charged in. I was taken to the police station and they had to call my father to come and bail me out. I was so scared of my dad that I asked the police if I could stay the night in jail. They thought it was funny, but they stopped laughing when my father—" Hutch abruptly stopped and looked away, ashamed of the story. He coughed and scratched his brow, smiling nervously while formulating his speech and clamping down on his feelings.

Starsky reached over and soothed, "Just take it easy. Take a minute if you have to." But deep inside, Starsky was containing his own emotions. He never saw this story coming. Not in his wildest thoughts could he have put this one together. Now he realized that he only ever knew the surface story of his partner's father-son relationship; the generic story that people who don't want to talk about it tell. Little did he know that there was so much more to this than he could have ever imagined.

Hutch cleared his throat before continuing, "I lay in the hospital bed allowing the hate for my father to consume me. My dad had managed to cover up the abuse with some lie, which nobody bothered to ask about, either because they didn't want to hear the truth or they were satisfied with his explanation. But just as soon as I had recovered, my folks sent me off to a boarding school for the next three years. I got a great education, but there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about breaking into places. I wanted that feeling of control and power that I never felt unless I was standing where I shouldn't be standing. When I graduated and came home, they welcomed me back like they would welcome back the family dog returning from a swim in the cesspool. Little did they know that while I was away, I was perfecting certain skills. I asked questions about banking under the guise of becoming a banker. I asked questions about safes, and vaults, and silent alarms and security systems and just about everything I could think of that might stand in my way of feeling in control. At 16, I began my career in earnest."

Starsky felt a strange sensation that Hutch was relieved to be telling his story. But there was still something he wanted to know, "So… the list of stolen items in the file… true?"

Hutch hedged, "I've never seen the list."

"But you were never caught?"

Hutch shrugged again, like the statement wasn't entirely true. "I was never technically caught because I never kept anything." Frustrated with himself for having to offer another explanation, he said, "I sort of viewed myself as a modern day Robin Hood. I took from those evil and dishonest and gave to those in need. The mob was big in Duluth and had their hands in just about everything. I became a runner for Tony the Weed. He was a small time hood with big time connections. I learned to make myself invisible, like I did when I was younger, and soon, Tony was taking me with him on errands. It didn't take long before I knew all the players. Once that happened, nothing could stop me. Over the course of the next few years, I broke into mansions that belonged to the biggest crime bosses in the Midwest and took paintings, jewelry, sculptures..., anything I could carry. The stuff I could fence, I did. The stuff that nobody would touch, I stashed. I broke into banks and nightclubs and warehouses owned by the mafia. You know, I gave over a million dollars to the Boys and Girls Club of America, anonymously of course." Hutch smirked at the memory. "But it wasn't about the money. It was about having control for the first time in my life."

Starsky hesitated, then asked, "So, how _did_ you get caught?"

"I didn't, not really. I got sloppy on a bank job and didn't move the camera far enough. They caught a picture of me… it was grainy but it gave them an idea and once again I had the cops on my tail, only this time I didn't wait around to be put back in the hospital. I was almost 18 and had two years of college behind me. I knew my father well enough to know that he'd never let his political aspirations get tarnished by my actions, so, knowing that my dad would buy off the local authorities, I pulled up stakes and moved out here."

"What made you quit?"

Hutch leaned back and gave that question some thought. "I quit for three reasons. I was going to get caught and I was going to land in jail for a very long time. I didn't want that. The second reason was very different. Once I was out here, I didn't feel the need for power, or control. It no longer mattered… at least that's what I told myself."

Starsky waited patiently. Finally he nudged his friend along, "You said there were three reasons."

Hutch shifted, once again looking at his guitar and yearning to do something with his hands. "Yeah. I'm no shrink so it may or may not be a valid one, but being a thief is addictive— at least for me itwas. That sense of control that came with every break-in is a very powerful drug. I kept having to do riskier jobs just to feel it." Hutch allowed a mirthless snort to escape, confirming to Starsky that his partner was embarrassed at such an admission. Since Hutch had a way of avoiding topics he didn't want to discuss, Starsky decided to help him maintain focus and urged, "Go on, I'm listening."

After a few minutes of reflection, Hutch admitted, "Shortly after I arrived here in Bay City, I was casing the Federal Reserve Bank on South Grand Avenue. I learned that money was transferred through that branch every Tuesday, where it stayed overnight. I also learned that the one hole in the bank's security occurred during that transfer. As I stood across the street, leaning against the building, staring at the bank, it hit me. It hit me that this was the sum total of my 18 years on earth, a common thief, and that when, not if, but when I got caught, everything my father said about me would be true. I was good for nothing. And Starsk, more than anything, I didn't want him to be right. So instead of walking across the street and into the bank, I walked across the street and into the BCPD Recruitment office. I took the test, scored well enough to enter the next group of recruits, and reported to the Police Academy the following Monday. The rest, as they say, is history."

Starsky took it all in, from his friend's first words on the subject to his last. It was mind boggling to think that his partner of three years, his best friend, had managed to bury his past with such alacrity and care that it took the powers of the C.I.A. to uncover it. But something was niggling at his brain and as he sorted through his own feelings of betrayal, he felt his friend's eyes on him, and he didn't have to look at him to know that his eyes were pleading for acceptance. The problem was, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He took another beer from the frig and popped the top, tossing it towards the trash and missing. But instead of taking a drink, he turned and faced his friend. "Have you stolen anything since then?"

Hutch shook his head.

It did little to assuage his feelings. There wasn't anything that Hutch didn't know about him, so why did Hutch keep this such a secret? It must have shown on his face.

"Starsky?" Hutch pleaded, getting off the couch. "There were so many times I wanted to tell you… but I couldn't." There was more to say, but in his head everything sounded trite. Just like he thought, there was no good ending to this. He hung his head and sunk down into the cushion of the sofa.

Starsky sat down next to him, so close that their shoulders touched. A good five minutes ticked off the clock before Starsky came to a realization. "It's okay. It might take me a little while to get used to the idea, but if the tables were turned, I probably would have done something similar." The truth is, he did do something similar, but now was not the time to compare notes. "All we gotta do now is figure out what to do about the C.I.A."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The chalk room was crowded when Hutch walked in. Whatever conversations being held quickly ended and he became the focal point. Agent Jim Jones greeted him warmly, "Detective Hutchinson, have a seat."

Hutch sat down between Dobey and Starsky, leaving Jones to hold the back of an empty chair. Shrugging it off, the agent said, "Now that we're all here, let's begin." Phillips switched off the lights while Green turned on a projector. The first image was of a dark-skinned Middle Eastern man donning a long white beard and white head turban. "This is Mustafa al Sadr, an international player with more money than God. What he wants, he gets. Right now, he wants that file." Green hit the button and another face appeared, "This is Omar al Rafi, another international player and a rival of al Sadr. He has almost as much money as God and he too wants that file. These two just might kill each other trying to get it. At any other time, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but right now, the international theatre is too unstable to withstand such an act." Green hit the button and said, "This is Mohammed Ahman, an international runner. Loyal only to himself; he'd sell out anybody as long as there was enough money in it. His specialty is moving merchandise. The file, we believe, is currently in his possession."

Hutch rubbed his forehead, an action that brought about some consternation from Miller who accused, "Are we boring you, Hutchinson?"

Phillips hit the light switch. Exasperated, Hutch demanded, "Just what in the hell do you expect me to do?"

Miller was almost too quick to answer, "That's for you to figure out, _Detective_! We just supply you with the intelligence; it's up to you to decide how to use it."

"That's enough!" Jones interrupted.

But Miller wasn't going to be silenced. Grousing back at his superior, he argued, "I told you he wouldn't be able to do it! He's nothing but a two bit thief turned beat cop. We're wasting valuable time on him!" Rather than wait around for a reply, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jones apologized, "I'm sorry—"

"He's right, damnit!" Hutch shot back. "I _am_ just a cop working a city beat! What in the hell do you expect me to do!"

"You'll do what you do best: steal!"

Hutch glared at the character assault, and Starsky jumped up and stood between his partner and the agent. "Listen Jones, what Hutch did, he did a lifetime ago."

"Maybe, but I'm guessing it's a lot like riding a bicycle." This time Starsky moved aggressively and Phillips and Green had to run interference.

"Starsky! Hutchinson! Take it easy!" Dobey barked. "In fact, everybody just relax! We aren't going to get anywhere like this."

Dobey waited until everyone made their way back to their seats, then continued, "Hutchinson is right. Just what exactly do you expect him to do?"

Jones took a deep breath, adjusted his attitude, and replied, "I expect him to steal that file."

There was a long pause, where no one moved. Not so much as a chair creaked. The focus was on Hutchinson and everybody studied his every movement and facial expression, no matter how slight. Green, Phillips and Jones sat on their side of the table while Starsky, Hutch and Dobey sat on theirs. The silence lasted a full five minutes.

During that time, a flutter tickled his insides as Hutch allowed his mind to remember. At first, he tried to suppress it, but he discovered that it felt too good and was way too easy to float back to that period in his life and remember how he felt, the patience he needed when casing the place, the thrill of breaking in, the satisfaction that came from viewing the forbidden merchandize, and, most importantly, the feeling of utter control and sheer power that resulted from a successful heist. Reluctantly, Hutch asked, "When is the file due to arrive on the West Coast?"

A collective yet inaudible sigh was released and Green and Phillips exchanged smiles. Because of his experience, only Jones seemed to know that this was the first step of many and he garnered his enthusiasm. He answered, "The day after tomorrow."

"And who's handling it?"

"Mohammed Ahman, the international runner. At least as far as we know."

"Where's he staying?"

"We don't know. But we think he's going to pass it off while he's here."

"To who?"

Jones shrugged.

That was the information that Hutch wanted to hear. A smile crept to his lips while his mind formulated a plan. As he turned fantasy into reality his spine tingled and his lip twitched. The taste of power was again within his reach. He looked at Jones but clearly didn't see him. Miller returned to the room and took everyone's attention except the blond's. Hutch was churning out his plan, framing the ideas around people and events, pulling on knowledge that may or may not help him.

Each man watched this physical metamorphosis occur in the detective. His eyes deepened in color and intensity, his hands curled into fists and his thumb rubbed over his index finger, back and forth. The wheels were in motion, and the federal agents silently congratulated themselves on this new development. Even Miller found some sort of morbid satisfaction in it, but not everyone shared the moment. The ominous and foreboding feeling in Dobey's gut defied explanation. When he looked up, Starsky was already staring back at him, obviously sensing the same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hutch poured through the files, studied faces and asked questions. He asked so many questions that Jones felt he was repeating himself, but Hutch was looking for nuances, any inconsistencies that would jeopardize the caper. He memorized the players, learned their names, and stored every piece of data in his head just in case he needed it. He became pensive, spending an hour just staring out the window, but he wasn't looking at anything, he was just staring and thinking. At five o'clock that evening, he stood up, took his jacket and said to Starsky, "Meet me at Huggy's tonight."

Jones caught him by the arm and asked, "What do you need from us?"

Hutch looked at each man from the C.I.A., the clean cut all American federal agents. They did everything but wear a neon sign that read CIA AGENT. Suppressing a snort, he replied, "Nothing. You've done your part, now let me do mine."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Dobey mulled over the papers on his desk. It had been ten hours since his gut first talked to him, yet he felt no better about the situation. In fact, he felt worse. "Starsky!" he bellowed into the squad room. "Get in here!"

Starsky ambled in, looking haggard.

"You have any idea what your partner's doing?"

Starsky had an idea, but not one that a detective sworn to uphold the law should be doing. He shrugged and deflected the question with one of his own, " You hear anything back on these fellas?"

"Yeah, they check out."

'_That figures_.'

Dobey put his pencil down and said, "I'm going with you tonight when you meet up with Hutchinson. I'm not sure I'm on board with this."

"Me neither, but they didn't give us much of a choice in the matter."

Dobey lowered his voice, "Did Hutch really do what Jones' claims?"

"He's somewhat vague on that, but it looks that way."

"Why?"

Starsky shrugged, "Only Hutch can answer that."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Pits was smoky, smelly, and crowded, which meant Huggy Bear would be in a good mood. He'd have to be because being seen with the Captain of Bay City Detectives wasn't something high on his list of things to do. It was ten o'clock when Dobey pushed through the door and looked around. Starsky looked past Huggy's shoulder and waved to his captain. Under different circumstances, the New York cop might have enjoyed what was about to ensue. Sliding in beside Huggy, Dobey barely fit in the booth, and Huggy was less than amiable about the arrangement, but the back booth was the best place to talk. Ignoring Huggy's annoyance, Starsky asked, "What'd you tell Edith?"

"Nothing, but she knows something big is going down. Where's Hutch?"

"Would someone mind telling me what's going on?" Huggy complained. "I get a call from surfer boy and he tells me to clear my schedule. Then, you two show up like we're all buddy buddy, and I don't mind telling you that I have my standards, not to mention my image, which you two don't exactly help."

"It's a long story Huggy, and I don't think you want to know."

"Does it have anything to do with the C.I.A. being in town?" Huggy added while popping a stale peanut into his mouth.

Starsky and Dobey furrowed their brows at each other, then turned slowly to stare at the lanky black man.

"Or perhaps the fact that Mohammed Ahman is passing through the city with a heavy piece of merchandise?"

Dobey barked, "How the hell do you know about this?"

"It's my job to know about this. Besides, it's all over the street. What I can't figure is how you all fit into a C.I.A. operation?"

Starsky looked across the bar and answered, "I think we'll let surfer boy fill you in." He waved to get Hutch's attention. Within seconds, Hutch was sliding in beside Starsky and motioning to a waitress for a beer. He skipped the salutations and pointed out, "Green's out back and Phillips is out front, making themselves very noticeable."

Dobey nodded, "Yeah, I saw them when I came in." Starsky nodded in acknowledgement as well.

"Hold on a second, fellas!" Huggy interrupted. "You mean to tell me that my place is being staked out by a bunch of government spooks?"

"Take it easy, Huggy," Hutch soothed. "They're here for me, not you. But I'm gonna need your help."

"Sure," he sounded less than pleased.

"Really…, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Huggy smirked at the men, "Is it dangerous?"

"Nope," Hutch lied.

Huggy knew better, but he was more puzzled by the detective's unusually high level of calm mixed with a hefty dose of energy, a combination he couldn't ever remembering seeing on him before. Judging by their expressions, Dobey and Starsky were a little intrigued as well. "What do you want me to do?"

"Actually, I'm gonna need everyone's help on this one, even you Captain," Hutch said.

Dobey opened his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught the waitress approaching with their drinks. She delivered three beers and a cola (her boss never drank anything stronger than a soda on busy nights) and left.

Hutch spoke low and steady, "This is what I know: the runner, Mohamad Ahmad, is bringing the merchandise through the city on Thursday. He's booked at the West End Hotel off Wilshire Boulevard, which, not so coincidentally, happens to be the site of a convention of Muslim business owners. He's requested a room with a safe. After he checks in, he'll put the merchandise in the safe and leave. That'll be the cue to the next runner. The new runner will then enter the room, get the merchandise from the safe and continue on the next leg of the journey. The transfer is the weakness and it happens very fast; that's where you come in. I need for you to keep Ahmad from leaving the hotel for at least 30 minutes."

Huggy said, "Am I to understand that you're going to relieve this gentleman of his merchandize?"

Hutch averted his eyes, displaying for the first time some reluctance. Starsky answered for him, "We have a good reason for wanting it."

"What makes you think this Mohamad cat won't have body guards surrounding him?"

Hutch answered, "He doesn't work that way; he works alone. Basically, he's greedy."

"What do you expect us to do?"

"Remember when I said the hotel is the site of the annual convention of Muslim business leaders? I managed to get three tunics and three turbans." Hutch finished his beer and stood up before they could respond, "I left the outfits in the back alley. Starsky, I'll be in touch."

"Where you going?"

"I have a lot to do between now and then. Captain, keep an eye on those spooks. Don't let them get in the way."

Dobey tried to protest but Hutch was already walking away. The three sat a minute longer before Huggy Bear said, "I guess I should practice my Pashtu accent."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What's all this?" Starsky said. The chalk room was filled with television monitors, cables, receivers, and speakers.

Dobey stood nearby with his hands folded in front of him, powerless. Jones answered, "We set up cameras all around the West End Hotel. We even got some inside. We plan on monitoring your partner's progress."

"What in the hell do you think he's gonna do?"

Miller took the opportunity to answer this one, "He'd better successfully steal that file. We plan on seeing to it that he completes the assignment."

"Or what? You'll go in and pick up the pieces?"

"Hardly," Miller sneered. "But we will make sure the attempt doesn't get traced to the US Government."

"Great. Some thanks. Hutch puts his life on the line to recover something that the C.I.A. no doubt should never have lost to begin with, and his reward is a big fat 'Don't know ya, never saw ya'."

Deflecting the comment, Jones asked, "Speaking of your partner, where is he?"

Dobey answered, "Why don't you ask your men? Or did they get tired of following him?"

Phillips and Green hedged some before Green admitted, "We lost him."

Starsky snickered. The great federal agents couldn't hold onto a city cop.

Jones ignored it and flicked on monitors. Slowly, each came into focus. There was a shot of the front and rear entrances, a shot of the exterior walls, a shot of the lobby, the elevator and several floor corridors.

"How do you know which floor to watch?"

"We took a guess."

Starsky didn't like the feel of it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was three in the morning and Hutch was standing in his boss's bedroom, listening to him snore. He wasn't without justification for breaking into Dobey's house, but he was a little worried about the actual moment when he had to wake him. It had been a long time since he affected a break-in, and since he wanted to ask Dobey something, he thought he'd do it in person. Now that he was here, he wasn't so sure it was a good idea. But the upside was, Jones was right; it _was_ like riding a bike.

He crept over to the bed and knelt down. He placed his gloved hand over the sleeping man's mouth and whispered, "Don't be alarmed, Captain."

Dobey's eyes flew open and in the dim light he focused on the stranger before him.

Hutch whispered, "Captain, it's me, Hutch."

It took a second to register what he heard, and another second to recognize the figure. He nodded his head and Hutch released his grip.

Dobey whispered, "What the hell are you doing, Hutchinson!"

"Shhhh—you'll wake up your wife. C'mon."

Dobey threw off the covers and pulled on a bathrobe. He padded out of his bedroom and down the stairs in pursuit of his subordinate. He caught up with him in the library. "What do you think you're doing, Hutchinson!"

"I wanted to find out what the agents are up to?"

"So you break into MY HOUSE!" Dobey regretted it as soon as he said it.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Hutch mumbled.

Dobey studied the tall man who didn't look so blond tonight. He was dressed all in black; black jeans, black sweatshirt, black gloves, black knit cap, and black tennis shoes. He even had some sort of black smudge marks covering the shiny areas of his face. Easing off, Dobey opened a cabinet door and pulled out two tumblers and a bottle. He poured a little into each glass and handed one to Hutch, noticing the slightest bit of trembling when he took it. "They spent the day setting up surveillance equipment. They have cameras on the interior and exterior of the hotel. They were none too happy about you giving Green and Phillips the slip, either. And, by the way, they made it clear that if you're caught, you're on your own."

Hutch swallowed the entire shot in one gulp and took a deep breath as it burned going down. His nervous energy prevented him from sitting and he paced around the perimeter of the room several times before Dobey stopped him. "Hutchinson, I don't know if what they said you did as a kid is true or not, but if you don't want to go through with this, you don't have to."

Hutch stopped long enough to stare out the blackened window into the darkness of the night. Finally, he said, "It's true, Captain." He wanted to explain himself—he _needed_ to explain himself, like he did to Starsky. But no more words followed. Deep down, he respected Captain Dobey too much to lay out his sordid past. There was only one thing to do: he had to wipe out his past. But the big twenty million dollar question was: how?

Hutch put the glass on the table and turned to face his captain, "Are you okay with what you need to do?"

Dobey nodded his head, remembering the costume he was to wear. "Yeah. Huggy Bear, Starsky and I have it all figured out. You just take care of yourself."

Hutch nodded and went to leave. As he got to the door, he turned and said, "I'm sorry for breaking into your home."

Dobey shrugged, "Just gives me a reason to install that security system that Edith has been wanting. I think you just made one lady very happy."


End file.
